Like the Sun
by TheWeightOfEmptiness
Summary: John's had a lovely dream about the beach and now he's cold and makes Sherlock warm him up. Mild slash.


John was lying on a beach, listening to the surf lap the shore and dozing in the sun. He was stretched out on a towel, positioned to soak in as much heat as possible. Sherlock had told him the perfect angle to set his towel at.

Sherlock, of course, wasn't relaxing at all. Wasn't in his nature. No, he had lain on the next towel for about ten minutes, trying to read a book, but once he was a few pages in and had already guessed the ending he became bored. He was now pacing up and down the beach, counting sea shells and measuring the distance between wave peaks.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?" John sat up slightly and leaned on his elbows. "It's a holiday. Do you even know what that is?"

"Know what it is. Don't care to do it." He kept pacing through the sand. the detective looked a little silly in his swim shorts and sun glasses. Nothing like himself.

"Well, that's unfortunate. It's lovely." And John laid back down and closed his eyes.

He jerked awake to the sound of his alarm. He wasn't on a beach. He wasn't in the sun. He certainly wasn't warm. Well, he was a little warm, but that was no thanks to the gray rain falling outside and a lot thanks to the two-legged heater lying next to him. He hand managed to cuddle himself into Sherlock's body all night, which explained why he was sweating at seven o'clock in the morning.

John lifted his arm off Sherlock's chest and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Morning, John." Sherlock said calmly, his eyes still closed.

"Bugger off." John was not a morning person. Unfortunately, Sherlock was. Rather, he found any moment he was awake to be a perfect moment to be brilliant. He opened his eyes and sat up, wrapping his arms around John's waist. He lightly kissed his shoulder and then put his cheek on the patch of skin he had just kissed. John put his hands on Sherlock's arms and sighed. Brilliant. "Good morning, Sherlock."

The arms quickly unlaced from around his waist and John instantly missed the warmth he had been complaining about only a moment before. Too late though, Sherlock was already jumping out of bed and tying his robe in a neat knot around his middle. John laid back down in bed.

"But it was such a lovely dream!" He moaned, rolling over so his face was in the crack between their two pillows. Sherlock perked up at this and turned around to face the bed.

"Dream?" He advanced toward John's prone body and climbed next to him, running his long fingers over his back. "Tell me about it." Not a question, never a question. He knew it hadn't been anything too… _embarrassing_—he could tell when John's dreams were like that—but apparently it had been something good. John turned his face to the side so his voice wasn't muffled.

"It was dumb."

"Well, clearly. Tell me." John rolled onto his back and put his hand behind his head to prop himself up a little. Sherlock's hand was resting on his abdomen now, warming the middle of his body more than a simple touch should do.

"We were on holiday."

"Holiday?"

"Yes, it's when you go away with someone you like and you do fun things and you relax and you don't work?"

"I know what a holiday is, John."

"Well, I never know with you." Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Anyway, we were on a lovely warm beach and I was lying in the sun and you were walking around complaining about being bored. It was just nice. Now it's cold." Now John was pouting. Suddenly he giggled. "You were wearing these fetching little swim shorts, though." He smiled up at Sherlock, who leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was soft and quick—been done a hundred times, will do a hundred more—and John sighed.

"That sounds like a terrible dream, though. I'm sorry."

"Only you would think a dream about lying on a beach sounds terrible."

"Everyone is stupid."

"But those swim shorts…" John cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward to kiss Sherlock again, not so soft and sweet this time. He pulled the tall man's body down so they were lying chest to chest with Sherlock on top. He wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him hard, loving the warmth Sherlock's body was radiating. Like the sun.


End file.
